It’s raining acorns. Maybe not exactly, but there’s definitely an intermittent unmistakable sound of falling acorns. A steady thunking and plopping as they hit the ground. When I’m in the yard I’m wondering how that would feel to get beaned by an acorn from 80 feet.
Every year some of these acorns take root and sprout close to the house. I take the thing by its short stem and pull, hard, until I uproot it. I have mixed emotions about that. There’s nothing quite like an oak tree to impart strength and beauty. But we are already surrounded by them. In an oak grove.
These trees can’t spread out like you’d picture a solitary oak — with large full branches and a huge, stocky trunk. No, these guys are crowded. They can’t branch out like a lone oak. All their energy goes to height. Branching out before getting a full dose of sun would be pointless. So, they are compelled to continuously reach toward any rays of sunlight that peaks through the neighboring trees. As a result, the bottom half looks somewhat spindly, instead of squat and sturdy. But the top half is lovely. It reached the light. Or rather the light reached it.
Some people say bloom where you’re planted. I say never stop growing and reaching for the Light.